


capitulations

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Negotiations, Post-Solo: A Star Wars Story, Pre-Rogue One, Threats, Underhanded Business Dealings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-05-28 19:00:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15055649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: In so many ways, she was still the scrumrat searching for safety and certainties that she would never find.But she could get very damned close if she put her mind to it.





	capitulations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosecake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecake/gifts).



The _First Light_ sliced through the air with knife-like precision, sweeping with ease between wide valleys and kilometer-high mountain peaks, massive and dangerous, so similar to Vandor that it still made Qi’ra’s heart ache with needs and wants she could no longer afford to harbor. The only reason she’d allowed herself to bring the ship here, put down metaphorical, if not physical, roots in this place was because Maul had suggested it first and she’d seen no reason to not give herself this reminder, this fantasy. It hadn’t been the first time she’d made a rash, bad decision. And now she paid for it so dearly.

The ship never touched down and she never stilled. Tankers refueled her mid-flight and Qi’ra’s guests simply accepted the fact that their pilots had better know how to complete docking procedures with both ships in motion.

Most of her guests. Every once in a while she found one who chose to be troublesome. Even down to arguing proper docking protocols. It had, at least, been an argument she’d won.

“I believe we may soon find ourselves at an impasse, Director,” Qi’ra said. Her gaze remained on the mountains outside, viewed through the slatted shutters that covered the transparisteel viewscreen.

Every once in a while, her guests complained. And generally, Qi’ra paid it no mind in the moment, remaining cordial to the last. Her displeasure was better measured weeks and months down the line, when invitations to return dried up and gifts of glitterstim or skimmers or whatever vice was required to grease her wayward guest’s palm vanished overnight. They would always return to beg for her favor and she always denied them.

It was not the petty satisfaction of seeing the childish brought low that motivated her, though a small part of her still took pleasure in denying the rich and powerful that which they saw as their due; it was simply good business practice. Fussy people were problem people. And Qi’ra didn’t have time for fuss or problems.

“That is unfortunate,” her guest replied, voice slowed by thoughtfulness and carefully modulated malice and disdain. How he had managed to climb the Imperial ranks without offending any of the thin-skinned idealogues and bullies he worked for was a minor miracle.

She fully expected to one day hear of his assassination and on that day she might, perhaps, find herself thinking with fondness of him. His kind of luck only held for so long and, worse, he didn’t even realize it was luck and not his own superior intellect that had saved him thus far. But he had ambition and hunger and his Core World accent was rough, not nearly Core enough for many of his lot; he’d done what he could to smooth it out, but there was nothing natural or easy about it. He, too, was not a natural Imperial.

Qi’ra could respect that. She was not a natural criminal. Yet look where she’d ended up.

Turning, she offered him a smile, the one that brought hope to many beings upon whom she bestowed it. It was a smile that offered vague promises into which anything could be read. Affection, appreciation, acquiescence. “Come,” she said. “Surely there is a solution to this that can be amenable both to my superiors and yours.”

She opened her hands and gestured him over to her desk.

“It was my understanding that you had no superiors.” From anyone except Orson Krennic, that might have been flattery.

“We all report to someone. Would you care for more wine?”

“No.” He swept his cape aside with practiced ease, seated himself smoothly, tried to pin her down with the blue ice of his gaze.

“Then let me make myself entirely clear to you, so this trip you’ve made is not wasted,” Qi’ra replied, polite. “Imperial credits are entirely worthless to me. Throw as many zeros at your offer as you’d like, it won’t matter, I could have double that number counterfeited in a few days. This cannot come as a shock to you.” She felt perfectly comfortable telling Krennic this, because she was telling Krennic nothing he didn’t already know. It made her wonder if he’d argued with the Imperial brass in anticipation of this very argument. His offer had been surprisingly generous. Qi’ra could easily see them handing him a bigger budget and calling that good enough.

There was a time when Qi’ra had believed that money could solve every problem; she had been naïve. Money was an all-purpose tool that suited many situations. But sometimes that wasn’t enough.

Qi’ra wasn’t above admitting to herself that this was where she began to have fun. Anyone could broker a monetary exchange. It took people like Qi’ra to make deals like this happen. “You need hyperfuel,” she said. “You’re building something that stretches the resources of the Empire itself. The Empire, which has practically monopolized the hyperfuel industry.”

Ah, there. The ice was melting, replaced by the slow creep of lava. But even lava could suddenly ignite everything around it. Krennic has a temper and he was doing a very poor job of concealing it. “I cannot discl—”

Qi’ra’s hand sliced through the air.

“I don’t want information about your precious project. Weapons are weapons are weapons. Ships are ships are ships,” Qi’ra said, though she knew that wasn’t true exactly. Every so often, a technology came along that was so much more than a weapon or a ship and Qi’ra was well-acquainted with Imperial research and development. She had to be. This may well be one of those situations, but she had no way of knowing for sure, though she intended to find out as much as she could on her own. If she prodded him, he would be no use to her at all. “I want a guarantee that when the Empire comes for the syndicates, it won’t bite the hand that helped it. What I want is a trade.”

Krennic scoffed. “A trade? And what makes you think—”

“If you think the sudden good fortunes of down-and-out smugglers go entirely unnoticed by their peers and associates, you are sorely mistaken.” Her eyes snapped to his hands. She almost expected to see them coated in blood and grime. But they were clean down to the nail bed. “You’re not like other Imperials. I respect that, but I need a guarantee.”

He shifted, hands fluttering over the knees of his pristine white trousers. When he spoke, the words were ground out as though he’d decided to chew them up first until they could be as bland as possible. For him, that effort amounted to little. This was not going the way he wanted it to and he was angry about that fact. “What kind of guarantee?”

“I’m sure there’s something in that very big brain of yours that’s worth having.” Qi’ra leaned forward, braced on her forearms. 

“You want me to betray Imperial secrets.”

She ducked her head to hide her smile. “Have you not already endangered your fellows by dealing arms across the galaxy for profit and funding black ops missions to sovereign planets in order to kidnap scientists? Anyone might think you’ve overstepped your bounds already.”

The muscles in Krennic’s aging cheeks tightened and jumped. “You seem to know everything. Say whatever it is you want to say and be done with it.”

She suspected she didn’t know the half of it, but knowledge wasn’t what she needed. All she needed was his attention. And that she now had in spades. “I heard a rumor about miniaturized shield tech, old by now, perhaps a decade or two out of date at the very least. I’m sure the Empire’s many and varied research and development teams have created much better tech since its development. However, it would be immensely helpful for me to have it.”

That slow, spreading magma in Krennic’s eyes flashed and lit on fire. His voice took on a graveled, daring quality. He wanted to intimidate her. How cute. “Rumors are worthless, Qi’ra. I haven’t even a single clue what you’re talking about.”

Another smile twitched across her lips as she leaned back and looked toward the ceiling. “So be it. If you want to mire yourself in quicksand, be my guest. Enjoy spilling all that honest Imperial blood trying to annex syndicate worlds for their hyperfuel caches and refineries and enjoy even more the experience of having your every step hounded by cloud-riders and freedom fighters once you do. I can’t say I’ll miss that should you succeed. They can be so very persistent, Enfys Nest’s little gang.”

“You would declare war against the Empire?” Any other Imperial officer would have expressed his disappointment. Krennic only tried to sound amused.

“No,” she replied, cool, “but should the Empire declare war on Crimson Dawn, I would not hesitate to meet it on the field of battle and make it regret ever doing so.”

“You wouldn’t win.”

“I may not.” She got to her feet, smooth, her fingers splayed against her desk. “But I could make a good showing of it. It would cost you.” She thought of Han and all of his grand posturing, the lies he used to tell that sometimes manifested the truth because he was stubborn and lucky. “It would cost you and your Empire dearly.”

Krennic’s nostrils flared and his lips thinned. Just a little push, she thought, that was all it would take.

“I apologize that your time was wasted here today, but I don’t believe there is anything else I can do for you under the circumstances. Perhaps Black Sun will heed the siren’s call of credits, I don’t know, but you will get no hyperfuel from my worlds unless it is taken by force.” The way she spoke made it clear she believed this a foolish possibility as she gestured for the gleaming protocol droid who stood sentinel near the exit to open the door and allow her guards back in. “You are, of course, welcome to every amenity the _First Light_ has to offer for the duration of your stay.”

Someone should really tell Krennic that his sabacc face could use some work. Because it didn’t come as even the least bit surprising when he folded, almost rushing toward her desk. “Wait.”

Qi’ra’s brow arched and she motioned for the droid to still. “Oh? What is it, Director?”

“What you want is impossible to get,” he said. “But I can offer you something better.”

_Do you even believe in your cause? Or just your work,_ she thought, surprised at his avarice. 

Qi’ra resumed her seat and so did Krennic. 

And when he explained to her exactly what he was willing to give up, she bit back a lifetime’s worth of smiles. He definitely didn’t believe in his cause, even if he perhaps thought he did.

She almost regretted that one day he would be killed for his ambitions; he was useful and full of all sorts of interesting bits of information.

“I can work with that, Director,” she replied, calm and composed and so very relieved underneath her sophisticated exterior. In so many ways, she was still the scrumrat searching for safety and certainties that she would never find.

But she could get very damned close if she put her mind to it. 

She said with finality, “And now we can talk.”


End file.
